A Wish For Your Trouble
by Admiral Albia
Summary: Harry saves a little-thought-of character\'s life(?) and is given ten wishes... THIS WILL NOT BE AS PREDICTABLE AS IT COULD BE! PG b/c I don\'t like putting G.
1. Save the Poltergeist!

Part 1 A Wish For Your Trouble   
By Admiral Albia 

This is just something I dreamed up while watching `The Queen's Nose` after reading fanfics all morning =P Hope you like it! 

Disclaimer; I don't own Peeves, Harry, Moaning Myrtle or anyone else. They all belong to J.K. Rowling. 

Chapter One; Save the Poltergeist!   
Harry Potter sighed and looked at his watch. It was midnight.   
"Great," he muttered, "Not only do I have a nightmare, I get to wake up at some unearthly hour and not be able to get back to sleep." He rolled over and tried again, but it was no use; Harry was wide awake now and there was nothing he could do about it. He considered possible alternatives to tire himself out, and finally decided on going for a walk. 

///

"PEEVES!" Filch's familiar battle-cry screeched out over the school as twelve loud bangs occurred consecutively. Despite being invisible, Harry shrank into the shadows as the school caretake came running by, his face covered in purple boils. Mrs Norris was following him, tie-died and sneezing; Harry guessed that she'd had an allergic reaction to whatever had hit her. He waited until Filch was out of sight, then stepped back into the middle of the corridor; just in time to have Moaning Myrtle, glasses skew-iff and hair all over the place, float right through him, presumeably running away from Peeves, who was holding - Harry did a double-take - a _wand? _He stared at the poltergeist, then realised suddenly that Filch had stopped yelling and his voice was coming back towards them, together with - Harry's heart sank - Dumbledore.   
"- somehow got hold of a wand, Headmaster, casting all kinds of spells... probably found a book in the library... _have to_ send him away now..."   
"Let me see the damage first, Argus. Mumblemumble... be necessary. _Expelliarmus_." The wand that Peeves had somehow acquired zoomed out of his hand, and Dumbledore caught it.   
"Good evening, Headmaster," the little man said oilily, "Nice night for a walk, isn't it?"   
"Attacking members of staff," Filch hissed, fingering a particularly large boil on his nose, "and carrying a wand. You're out this time, Peeves."   
"I'm afraid I have to agree," Dumbledore said, looking very solemn. Harry's heart skipped a beat, and he thought furiously. It wasn't as if Peeves didn't deserve it, or even that Harry particularly liked the poltergeist... but Hogwarts wouldn't be the same without him, somehow, he was like the furniture... and besides, Harry dreaded to think what would happen to Peeves. He could easily just hang around in Hogsmeade and attack the students at weekends.   
On the other hand, though, Harry was breaking school rules... but what was house point loss and possible detention compared to losing... Harry wasn't entirely sure what Peeves was to him, but he certainly didn't want the little man to go. It was strange, really, he was such a pest... steeling himself, Harry removed the Cloak and cleared his throat. The two men snapped round.   
"Potter!" Filch snapped. "Out of bed! What are you doing?"   
"I was looking for my wand," Harry said, thinking fast. "I left it in the library when I'd finished doing my homework there, and I was going to get it when I ran into Peeves. He said he'd get it for me. I'm sorry, it's my fault really... I should've known not to trust him." He crossed his fingers behind his back and prayed that Peeves would get the idea.   
"Is this true, Peeves?" Dumbledore asked gravely.   
"Yes, Headmaster. Harry wants his wand back." Dumbledore tossed the wand to Harry, who caught it, then turned to Filch. "It seems you have no case for removing Peeves after all, Argus. Perhaps you'd like to go to bed? I can't recall the last time you slept." Filch stared at them all, and particularly Harry, incredibly nastily for a second before turning and marching off round the corner, Mrs Norris at his heels. Once he'd gone, Dumbledore chuckled.   
"Whose wand is it really, Peeves?"   
"Harry's, Headmaster."   
"I doubt it, somehow. It's just lucky Argus didn't notice Harry's wand sticking out of his pocket..." Harry looked down and nearly swore, before he caught himself. "Why are you out of bed, Harry, if not to look for any vital equipment?"   
"I couldn't sleep, Professor."   
"So you decided to take a walk?" Harry nodded. "Perfectly reasonable." Dumbledore took the wand back and swept off, leaving Harry alone with Peeves, who looked uncharacteristically serious.   
"What did you do that for?" the poltergeist demanded once the headmaster was out of earshot, "What've I ever done for you?" Harry shrugged.   
"I dunno, it's just... well, I don't know what made me do it."   
"Oh." Peeves stared at Harry for a moment as though trying to work something out, then said, "Well, whatever made you do it, you saved my life. If I left this place I'd die."   
"Why?" Harry asked in surprise.   
"Kid, I'm a ghost, whatever those stuck-up see-throughs say. I haunt where I haunt and only where I haunt. Same for all poltergeists. So..." Peeves sighed and looked hard at Harry again before murmuring, `wishes` and turning away. When he turned back, he was holding a tiny black box. "There you go. This thing'll grant ten wishes, either for you or for anyone you give permission to. Anyone who doesn't get permission..." Peeves grinned nastily, "well, let's just say they won't try to steal a poltergeist wish again. And if they do try to nick one you'll still have it afterwards." Harry stared at the box, then at Peeves, looking for some sign that it was a joke. Reading his expression, the poltergeist said, "No joke. You saved my life, it's traditional, yadda yadda yadda. All you have to do is touch it and wish."   
"I - can't -" Harry began. Peeves tutted impatiently.   
"This is the problem with you, kid. A Slytherin'd take it if they ever did anything to deserve it, a Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff'd ask questions, but Gryffindors? You lot are so unselfish it's unbelievable. Take it. You deserve it." Harry gave up and took it.   
"So... it can grant any wish?" He asked, hardly daring to believe it.   
"Any wish except those ones that involve changing history. You wanna wish that someone never existed..." the little man shook his head. "Tough cookies. BUT you can bring people back to life, long as they're not actually buried at the time. If they're buried, you need to dig `em up first. Otherwise they'll come back to life and suffocate. Clear?" Harry nodded. "Good. Now go back to bed." 

///

On his way back to the Fat Lady, Harry ran into Dumbledore, who was standing waiting for him.   
"What did he give you?" he asked, falling into step with Harry, who gaped, then remembered that it was the headmaster's job to know these things and produced the box. "Ah. Wishes. Harry, there is something I have to tell you."   
"Yes, Professor?" Harry said, guessing what it was going to be.   
"_Be careful what you wish for_. What you think you want isn't always what you really want. And make sure other people remember that, too." Harry nodded; it was exactly what he'd expected; and turned to the portrait hole. "Always think before you wish," Dumbledore said softly, "_Always_. And Harry?"   
"Yes, Professor?"   
"Remember to dig your parents up _before_ you bring them back to life, if that's what you really want." Harry stared after Dumbledore's retreating back, feeling vaguely annoyed. Of course it was what he really wanted! Well, actually what he really wanted was for Voldemort to never have existed, but he couldn't wish for that... he stifled a huge yawn and decided to think about it in the morning. 

///   
If you like it, review it! Simple as that. I'll give you a clue, though; this story may not be as predictable as you think =)


	2. Ten Wishes and Four Teenagers

Part 2 A Wish For Your Trouble   
By Admiral Albia 

This is just something I dreamed up while watching `The Queen's Nose` after reading fanfics all morning =P Hope you like it! 

Disclaimer; I don't own Peeves, Harry, Moaning Myrtle or anyone else. They all belong to J.K. Rowling. 

Chapter Two; Ten Wishes and Four Teenagers   
The next morning was Saturday, but this didn't make Harry's thoughts on what to do with the wish-box any clearer. His first instinct was of course to wish his parents back to life, but just as he was preparing to bring them into the dormitory he realised that it'd take a bit of explaining to the rest of the boys when they woke up to find - Harry shuddered involuntarily - two half-rotten coffins lying on the floor. He sighed and got up, grabbing his robes, then paused and looked over at Neville's bed. People in the Muggle world made sudden, miraculous recoveries, so why shouldn't people in the wizarding world? Just as Harry's hand was closing around the box, which he'd left on the bed while he got dressed, Neville snorted and, from the sound of it, turned over. Harry paused again. It was Neville's choice, not his. He'd talk to him later, and ask him if he'd like it done. Slipping the wish-box into his pocket, Harry crept out of the dormitory and went down to breakfast, still mulling over what he should do with ten wishes. He wondered vaguely whether he could wish that the thing could grant wishes to stop people from ever having existed, then realised something; if he _had_ been able to wish that Voldemort had never existed, and he had done so, he'd have still known what life had been like when Voldemort had existed, and therefore he would have seen Peter Pettigrew almost every day while _still knowing that he would betray them all given a chance_. Harry swallowed. He was beginning to see what people meant when they told you to be careful what you wished for. 

///

"So then what happened?" Ron asked as they sat in the common room. Harry shrugged.   
"He gave me this." He produced the wish-box, and Ron's mouth dropped open.   
"Harry... is that what I think it is?"   
"Well, if you think it's a wish-box, then yes."   
"Oh. My. God," was Ron's sole reaction. "You know what, Harry, this thing's got more power than all the Ministry Council put together."   
"What has?" Hermione asked as she sat down next to them. Ron motioned at the box. "Oh, my... Harry, where did you get that?"   
"Peeves," Harry said.   
"I hope you haven't used it, Harry, those things can be really dangerous if you're not meant to use them-"   
"Peeves _gave_ it to me," Harry said pointedly. "I stopped Filch from throwing him out of the castle."   
"Oh. Well, in that case, Harry, just think about what you want, OK?"   
"Dumbledore already told him that," Ron said. Hermione went pink.   
"I'm just making sure he's careful, that's all, all kinds of things can go wrong. There was one man a few years ago who went insane because he changed the past with a wish and got really confused, the Ministry had a terrible time sorting it out and - Harry, what are you doing?" Harry waved Hermione away as he headed over to Neville and sat down next to him.   
"Hi, Neville," he said, wondering how best to play this so that Neville didn't find out that he, Harry, knew about Neville's parents.   
"Hi Harry... what's that?" Harry explained about the wish-box.   
"And I was thinking, since so much seems to go wrong in your life, you might like to use it to set something right?" His friend stared at him.   
"Oh no, Harry, I couldn't, not until you've used it at least... it wouldn't be _fair!_"   
"It _would_ be fair."   
"No it wouldn't!" Neville lowered his voice; people were staring at them. "Harry, you say my life's a mess but at least I have a family."   
"So do I," Harry argued. "They don't like me and I don't like them, but they're still a family..." he wondered if he was going to have to go through this every time he tried to give someone else a wish and came to the conclusion that he probably would. "Look, just do it, all right? I'm still trying to decide what to do with the thing." Neville looked up at him, shrugged, and placed his hand over the box, which suddenly in bright orange and lurid pink. After all, it _had_ come from Peeves. Neville took his hand away, satisfied.   
"We won't know if it's worked until Monday," he said. Harry just nodded vaguely; he'd just remembered that it was a Hogsmeade weekend and Hermione was mouthing `Snuffles` at him. He scooped up the box and the three exited the common room. 

///   
A/n; Believe it or not, Neville is _not_ going to be predictable... Sirius' one is sorta predictable, but only because of sheer coincidence... and Ron and Hermione _will_ get a go, don't worry ;-)   
Review... please... must... have... REVIEWS!   
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	3. Nine Wishes... Padfoot... and Coincidenc...

part3 A Wish For Your Trouble   
By Admiral Albia 

This is just something I dreamed up while watching `The Queen's Nose` after reading fanfics all morning =P Hope you like it! 

Disclaimer; I don't own Peeves, Harry, Moaning Myrtle or anyone else. They all belong to J.K. Rowling. 

Chapter Three; Nine Wishes, Padfoot... and Coincidence   
"Are you sure Peeves wasn't having you on?" Sirius asked, looking at the wish-box sceptically.   
"_Positive_," Harry insisted. "I let one of my friends use it and he's fine."   
"That doesn't mean a thing. Some poltergeist curses can take days, even weeks to work."   
"Why?" Hermione asked. Sirius shrugged.   
"It makes the shock worse. You think you've got away with it, and... poof!" He grinned at their faces. "Don't worry, I never actually experienced it... there was a poltergeist in James' house. We learnt a _lot_ from him..." They laughed, then Harry realised that the conversation was drifting away from what he considered the vital point.   
"Sirius, do you want to use it?" His godfather blinked.   
"No, why should I?" He saw them staring and elaborated. "I'm happy out here. Always did spend most of my time outdoors anyway. The only thing I really need is food, and... well, dogs like a chase. _Any_ chase." He paused. "Besides, have you even used it yourself yet?"   
"No," Ron said pointedly. "The only thing he's done with it is to give one to _Neville_." Sirius chuckled.   
"You say that like it's a bad thing. All right, I'll use one for you. But don't expect miracles. And by the way, Ron -" he added as his hand hovered over the box "- just be thankful it was someone in your house and not... Malfoy, wasn't it?" The box glowed pink and orange, then went dark. Sirius gave it back to Harry. "And no, I'm not going to tell you what it was," he said. "And you probably won't find out, either. Now get back to school, it's late." 

///

Hermione had already taken out her subscription to the _Daily Prophet_ that year, just to keep an eye on `the Voldemort situation`. All the same, Sunday's front page caught the eye of the entire Gryffindor table, it was in such big type.   


PETER PETTIGREW MYSTERIOUSLY APPEARS IN AZKABAN!

_ The Minister for Magic got a shock yesterday when, on his annual inspection of Azkaban Prison, he found a man sitting in the cell once occupied by Sirius Black. The guards denied admitting this man, who was clearly in a state of some confusion and shock, yet the door was locked._   
_ This mytsterious man was immediately taken in for questioning, where he bewildered the Ministry by claiming to be Peter Pettigrew, a man who Black killed some fourteen years ago. All attempts to detect and break a Confundus Charm proved negative, and the Ministry finally resorted to Veritaserum, the strongest Truth Potion in the world. What was then revealed has left the Ministry feeling very foolish._   
_ It appears that this man was indeed Peter Pettigrew, and that he framed Black all those years ago, faking his own death in the process. Pettigrew was unable to explain how he got into Azkaban or indeed what he was doing locked in Black's old cell, but he is expected to return there later today._   
_ Any sightings of Black would be greatly appreciated as the Ministry wish to return his wand to him._ "Strike!" Ron laughed. Harry grinned.   
"It's a bit of a coincidence though, isn't it?" Hermione said. "I mean, there's no way Sn-_Sirius_ could have known Fudge would be inspecting Azkaban yesterday."   
Over at the Slytherin table, Malfoy was looking very put out by the news that Sirius Black _wasn't_ after Harry. Snape looked even sourer. 

///   
A/n; I know it was predictable, but really, what else would he wish for? Unless it was a Peter-shaped punch-bag..   
Review... please!   
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